


Dragged Beyond Our Wishes

by zarabithia



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-22
Updated: 2006-09-22
Packaged: 2019-05-19 21:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14881212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Roy Harper was taken in by Bruce Wayne.  Dick Grayson never was.  Following Batman's decision to fire Batboy, Roy and Dick still manage to find one another.





	Dragged Beyond Our Wishes

**Author's Note:**

> _"Destiny grants us our wishes, but in its own way, in order to give us something beyond our wishes."~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe._
> 
> _"The willing, Destiny guides them; the unwilling, Destiny drags them."~Seneca._

The bitterness of the mid-September air cut through Roy's clothes and made him wish more than once for the warmth that the Batboy costume would have provided. But Roy wasn't Batboy anymore - Bruce had made that perfectly clear the day Batman had fired him.

The memory of that day had never become less painful, as he'd hoped- and Clark had sworn - it would. It kept replaying in his mind, a double feature next to the memory of the shot he hadn't been fast enough to out-jump. At that memory, Roy couldn't stop himself from reaching up and touching the bullet wound through his worn t-shirt. Two months ago, when Bruce had fired him, it had been the only noticeable scar on his entire body. It wasn't anymore - the tracks along his arms were too obvious and noticeable to the touch for that to be the case.

An intense wave of guilt washed over Roy, but he'd become rather good at ignoring that particular emotion over the two months that he'd been without a home . . .without a costume. . . without a partner. 

Besides, _fuck_ Batman and his stupid little gun insecurities. They weren't Roy's fault, nor were they his problem anymore. In fact, Roy was _glad_ that Bruce had sent him away . . .

Yeah, he _was_ glad and _fuck_ Brave Bow for ever sending him away in the first place with the "man whose heart I trust to take care of you." Because the dead old bastard had never been _so very fucking_ wrong about anything else in his life. Bruce Wayne had only taken care of him until the day . . .

The day that he'd fucked up. The day that he'd proved he _wasn't_ good enough to be Batboy. Roy might not know much about how parents were supposed to work - but he knew enough to realize that they weren't supposed to kick you out for one little mistake. They damn well weren't supposed to _fire_ you.

But Bruce had - and as the need for the smack ached in his _muscles,_ Roy wondered what he'd been thinking, trying to kick his habit when there was no one around to give a damn whether he was shooting up or not. There was no fucking way that he was going to make himself sick // _sick enough to die, that's what Jason said. . . said he'd seen others die from it//_ when it didn't _matter._ What good could possibly have come of maybe killing himself to quit a drug that he still had plenty of access to? Roy _knew_ Bruce would be disappointed with his lack of control - control was everything to Batman, after all - if he had any idea, but . . .  
  
None of that _mattered_. All that mattered to Roy was getting more of what he so desperately needed. 

Batman didn't have that, not anymore. But Grayson did. 

As the wind blew a little harder, it combined with a sudden cold flash _//God, it's been too long since the last hit. .need more soon//_ that washed over Roy's body with such force that he nearly couldn't finish the walk to Grayson's place. From somewhere deep inside him, Roy summoned a Navajo prayer, and forced his increasingly shaky legs down the empty Bludhaven street.

***********

Dick knew by the tone of Jason's voice who the visitor at the door was, without so much as having to turn his head. Harper had lasted longer than Dick had expected - a full ten hours. It was rather impressive and Dick supposed that the self control Harper had learned under Batman's tutelage had come into use.

It was good that Batman was useful for something. It would have been nice if that something entailed catching the killers responsible for orphaning little kids, though. But, apparently, Batman didn't go to the circus. Dick supposed that figured - it was too bright and flashy for the flying rodent types, anyway.

Hell, it was too bright and flashy for Dick, these days.

Dick's musings were interrupted as Jason dragged the whimpering, shaking mess that used to be Batboy into the living room. Throwing the red-haired boy down in front of the chair Dick hadn't bothered moving from, Jason glared at the crumpled heap at Dick's feet before redirecting the glare. "We're loosing money on this one, you know," he growled towards Dick.

It was really a shame that Harper had fallen so far from the top form he used to be in when they'd first met. Once, not too long ago, Batboy could have knocked Jason out with one punch before the brat could have gotten out so much as one word of complaint. Dick couldn't help but think that would have been a glorious sight to behold. "You're still getting your fair share of the cut, Todd," Dick snapped at the ungrateful tire-stealer he'd taken in. "Now go get Harper what he came here for before he vomits all over the carpet."

Jason spared one last glare at Harper before turning to fulfill Dick's request. The kid continued to grumble, however, and Dick felt compelled to remind, not at all gently, "And Todd? If the sample you bring back is cut with anything that hurts him, I will take it out of your ass."

The kid continued to grumble, but it was in soft enough of a tone that Dick had to strain to hear it. Sooner or later, he and Jason were going to have a nice little chat about the kid's back talking. It was an awfully annoying little habit.

In the meantime, Dick leaned down, grabbed the former Boy Wonder by a fistful of red hair and jerked hard enough to illicit a cry of protest. "You really are pathetic, Harper," Dick informed the pair of gold-green eyes that met his gaze. "You can't even stand, can you?"

Those gold-green eyes stopped looking at Dick's face and looked down at the carpet. "I have money. I can pay you this time."

Still holding onto that fistful of red hair, Dick used his free hand to smack Harper as hard as he could across the face. The act left a large, red handprint that matched the color of Batboy's former costume perfectly. 

But it clashed against the orange of Harper's hair. "I asked you a question, Harper and I expect an answer. It's the least you owe me, as nice as I am to you."

"I-I'm sorry."

"So pathetic," Dick repeated. "Now answer me - you can't stand up until I give you what you need, can you?"

"N-No, I can't."

"You _need_ me, don't you, Harper?"

"Yes."

" _Say_ it and I want you to look at me when you do."

Those gold-green eyes looked up at him, full of hate, and Dick wondered what it said about him that he _preferred_ Harper's hate to the willing, pathetic creature whimpering at his feet. "I-I need you, Grayson." 

Jason chose that point to re-enter the room and made an elaborate showing of once again glaring at Harper. "That's for damn sure," Jason grumbled as he handed the syringe to Dick. "Is he at least going to pay, this time?"

"Go away, Jason." Dick didn't leave any room in his voice for argument, using the tone that even Jason knew better than to argue with.

When they were alone, Dick took a minute to roll the syringe around in his hand, savoring Harper's desperate attempts to lunge forward and grab the device. A mere two months ago, when Batboy had been at the top of his game, Dick wouldn't have been able to hold him back.

"So pathetic," he whispered again, jerking backwards hard enough on that red hair that he elicited a cry of pain from the redhead. "You said you had money this time?" 

Harper hastily dug into the pocket of those thread-bare jeans and placed the money on the arm of the chair Dick sat in. A small smile that Dick didn't bother to hide crept upon his face. "No luck getting any more out from the trust fund, Harper? What good is having a rich daddy if he can't pay your bills for you? This will barely cover the advance I gave you the last two times you couldn't pay me, Harper. It certainly won't pay for today's dose." 

"But I need -"

"You need _me_."

The whimper that came from Harper wasn't voluntary this time, and Dick chose not to press the issue. "I'll give you what you want, but you know what I'll expect in payment."

Despite the withdrawals coursing through Harper's system, the man still had enough sanity left to look ashamed at Dick's request. Instead of answering him, Harper attempted to move into position. But his arms and legs shook too badly to be of any use, and Dick still held him in place with that fistful of red hair.

"You can pay me after. I want you to be able to concentrate well enough to move that mouth of yours, after all." Harper did have a deliciously talented mouth, one that made Dick wonder if all those nasty little pedophile rumors about Wayne were true. They probably were - the kid had to have learned it from somewhere and why else would the man take in a kid he had no blood ties to? No one Dick had ever met dealt out something for nothing, and Dick was sure that Wayne wasn't any different. "Give me your arm, Harper."

It took Harper two tries before Dick realized that the other man couldn't move well enough on his own to put the arm into Dick's lap. With far more gentleness than the red head deserved, Dick let go of his hair and pulled the arm onto his lap. Thrusting the needle into the boy's skin, Dick watched the other man's face for signs of relief from the withdrawals. A half regret formed inside him at seeing the gold in Harper's eyes cloud over as the smack worked its way through Harper's bloodstream.

Dick tried his best to shake the lingering regret. But when the rush had fully hit Harper, enough so that the shakes had stopped and the boy could function once again, and the red head began to unbutton Dick's pants, Dick couldn't help but notice the look of shame that had crossed the former Boy Wonder's face. It was a look that Dick had came to know well during their acquaintance, and while part of him reveled in it - the power that came with shaming your enemy was a skill that Dick had learned early in his time on the streets and had never forgotten - another part couldn't help but remember watching news reports of Batman and Batboy on the television with his parents. They'd tended to stay in the shadows, but the few times they hadn't, Dick's attention had always been drawn to the flashy little boy that had jumped from rooftop to rooftop with a grace that had impressed even his parents. 

They thought he would have made a terrific acrobat. As for Dick, he'd wasted more than one night as a child wondering what it would be like to swing from the rooftops of Gotham with Batboy.

As Harper's mouth wrapped around him, Dick pushed the memories out of his mind. He wouldn't feel guilty for the redhead's fall from grace. After all, as Dick had learned on that fateful day at Haly's Circus all those years ago, eventually, everyone fell - whether they were highly trained acrobats or sidekicks to The Dark Knight.  
  
If Harper lived long enough - and given the amount of junk he went through, it was entirely possible that he wouldn't - the redhead would learn how to deal in a world in which he could no longer fly.  
  
Dick had.  
*****  



End file.
